I Find You Wherever I Go
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Wincest Au! Sam is the gay check out guy. People are haters. Dean comes to the rescue! Cute wincest pre slash. Warning for extreme language and insults.


A/N Wincest pre-slash!

Sadly, this stuff does happen in real life. No offenses were meant with this piece, but they were inspired by many accounts I've seen on the internet.

Isn't that a little sad?

Alright, don't forget to review! Thank you guys so much.

I Find You Wherever I Go

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The line was busy, because, yes, God fucking hated Dean Winchester that much.

Standing in a line at the one, yes, one station open at the grocery store was probably an unknown circle of hell.

Seriously.

The line stretched all the way down the store, curving past the soda displays to end near the frozen meat section.

It was the kind of line that made you want to tear your hair out. Too bad Dean's was too long, he probably would have by now.

He kept (mostly) calm by tapping his foot, shifting his items from hand to hand, cursing himself for buying from here tonight.

His measly loaf of bread and frozen dinner looked kind of pathetic, not important enough to wait in line for, but honestly, where was Dean gonna go? The clubs?

Actually, he could if he wanted to. In his imagination.

Master's Degrees didn't earn themselves, truthfully.

The line moved a little. A LITTLE. Read: Two inches.

Not like he was being a drama queen about it or anything.

He craned his neck over the growing line, trying to see over the lady in front of him.

So far the line hadn't moved much. If Dean had any common sense, he'd ditch the food and go home.

But he was hungry. And the rotisserie chicken two feet behind him was letting off an aroma that was practically euphoric.

Damn stupid grocery store. He didn't even WANT the chicken. Not really.  
Okay, maybe he did. A little.

Ignoring that impulse (and the grumbling of his stomach) he followed the line, breathing a sigh of relief as another check out sign lit up. Finally.

The line began to shift, people splitting into two lines as the new checker took his place, bright pink t-shirt all Dean could see of him.

Dean smiled as he came closer to the check out area, only person ahead of him the fat lady with her cart full of breakfast cereals.

Sometimes people were just weird.

The lady in front of him placed her stuff on the check out, moving probably as slow as humanly possible as she put her cereal boxes (one by one) onto the belt, time literally slowing as everyone behind her groaned, rolling their eyes and checking their watches.

She had an irritated, hurried look to her, like she could barely wait to get outta the line.

Well, join the club, lady.

Jesus.

The check out guy was the one with the pink t-shirt, tall and slightly muscled, floppy brown hair covering a politely smiling face as he checked her items out.

"How are you doing today, Ma'am?" He asked nicely as she dumped her stuff one by one, ignoring the sudden look of fury that came across the woman's face.

She nodded without making eye contact, face turning slightly pink as he scanned her items. Her fists clenched imperceptibly under the counter, making Dean tilt his head a little.

The hell was her problem?

He moved closer, curious as only a person who had nothing better to do could.

"Alright," The man said happily when he was done. "Your total is $29.50."  
His smile was really nice, Dean noticed.

The woman stared blankly at the man, face going even redder. She mumbled something under her breath.

"What, Ma'am?" The man asked. His name tag read My name is Sam, How can I help you today?

"It's people like you who make me sick." She said quietly, gesturing at Sam.  
He frowned slightly, biting on his lip. "I'm sorry to hear that, Ma'am. Cash or credit?"

She opened her mouth, face ready to fall off and join the circus of tomatoes it was so red.

Uh oh. Was Dean's first thought. Nothing really good came out of stuff like this.

"You fag." The woman spit at him, pointing at the subtle "GSA" button Sam wore on his belt. "I hate people like you. You disgust me."

Sam's face went blank, color rising to his cheeks, but he made no move.  
She seemed to not see him, carrying on her rant. The whole line stopped and turned, trying to find out what all the yelling was about.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. Being like this, influencing children! You evil sin against God!"

The last word came out like a curse, big glob of spit flying out and smacking Sam right in the face.

The whole line paused and held its breath, waiting for the tall man to snap.

He didn't.

Calmly wiping the spit off his face with the edge of his t-shirt, Sam stood tall and repeated his first question.

"Will that be cash or check, Ma'am?"

She let out a cry of fury, slamming her fists down on the counter.

"You worthless person! I hope all the people like you die! God hates fags and he hates you!"

Dean had had enough.

"Lady," He said angrily, watching Sam take a step backwards and surreptitiously wipe away a tear. "Shut the fucking hell up."

Her eyes bugged, rolls of fat rippling as her mouth opened wide, breath taken in to scream.

"How dare you say that to me?!" The woman shrieked, waving her arms at Dean. "How dare you defend that….that…fag?!"

Dean's vision went red, but he restrained himself. "Lady," He started, moving a little closer. "You say one more goddamned thing-"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "How could a good Christian boy like you accept this? Doesn't it disgust you?!" She yelled at him hysterically, face still red as a beet.

The whole line paused again, waiting for Dean to do something.

He reached into his pocket, digging around for the keys that were there.

Finding what he was looking for, he slammed it down on the belt in front of the woman hard, watching her face go from confusion to anger as she realized what was in front of her.

He held a matching GSA button up to her face, watching her breathe heavily.

"Next time you open your mouth, remember that good Christian boy might be a fag too."

He gave her his best glare.

"Now get the hell out and stop harassing this man."

Her face was a mottled red, expression horrified as she grabbed her stuff and threw it to the floor, waddling out quickly as the whole line applauded Dean.

Sam was openly crying now, leaning against the counter as Dean walked up.  
"Thank you." He was saying, blue green eyes amazingly big and beautiful.  
Dean shook his head, smiling a little.

They both bent down to gather the spilled cereal boxes, another line miraculously opening (too late) in the next aisle, diverting the flow of customers.

Sam meticulously gathered the spilled food, tears still leaking. The man seemed embarrassed, wiping his eyes like he hoped no one was looking.  
Dean felt pity for him. Poor guy had just been trying to do his job.

"You alright?" He asked Sam, totally not admiring his butt as they stood up.  
"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"Okay, maybe not totally fine. But it's happened before. I'm fine. It's just been a long day."

Dean nodded, following Sam over to the counter.

He checked out Dean's items quickly, bagging them and placing the bags in front of Dean with a small smile.

"Cash or credit?" Sam asked.

"Credit." Dean said, handing over his card.

Sam ran it through the machine quickly, handing the receipt back to him after a second.

"You have a good day, sir."

He told Dean, smiling a little again. "Thank you again."

Dean nodded, taking his stuff. "No problem. My name's Dean." He said somewhat redundantly. It wasn't like he was gonna see this guy again, right?  
The doors closed around him as he walked out into the frigid air, bags one hand and receipt in the other.

He examined the receipt for a second, adding his totally money in his head like he always did after buying stuff.

He stopped walking for a second.

Sonvabitch.

On the bottom of the receipt was a number, next to it a smiley face and a name.

334-2327

Sam

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A/N Okay, that was fun! Leave me a review?

BTW, number is not real.


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